


Magical Me

by brightly_lit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Selves, Case Fic, Flying, Gen, Magic, Magic Battles, Some Humor, Wings, magic world, other world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightly_lit/pseuds/brightly_lit
Summary: Written for the prompt "Magic can be beautiful."





	Magical Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've always kind of hated how magic is regarded as mostly evil in Supernatural (except, of course, when our heroes do it), so I was really drawn to this prompt, to show magic in a beautiful light, for once.
> 
> My best friend is a huge Harry Potter fan, so when I was trying to come up with a title and asked for her ideas, she suggested this one. The fic doesn't have anything to do with Harry Potter, but it fit the fic so well, I had to go with it. :->

Sam and Dean weren’t sure what to expect when they stepped through the portal into what Jack was pretty sure was “Magic World,” but it sure as hell wasn’t to come face to face with ... themselves. In ... dresses. Looking just as surly and on guard as real Sam and Dean.

Dean-in-a-dress looked at Sam-in-a-dress. “What do you think, some kind of mirror spell?”

Sam-in-a-dress shrugged. “I’m more concerned with that portal and where it leads. I can hardly conceive of the kind of power it would take to open a rift like that ....”

“Antichrist,” Dean explained easily. “He’s got the juice. And you--”

Sam-in-a-dress opened up a spellbook and began an incantation that started to close the portal--their only way home. “Hey, don’t--” Sam began, when Dean-in-a-dress, with a wave of his hand, threw him backwards against a tree--just like a demon would.

“You son of a bitch--” Dean and Sam had come through the portal with their guns out, and now Dean fired his. He probably would have hit the bastard, too, except that he did some kind of warding movement when he saw Dean’s intention, and the tree behind him swayed a bit from the blow. Dean-in-a-dress looked startled, concerned, turning back to look, before, without another moment’s hesitation, wrapping both Sam and Dean in some kind of glowing forcefield, moving them effortlessly away from the portal so Sam-in-a-dress could continue his work. “Don’t close that!” Dean yelled, as Sam started coming around. “We need it to get back! We’ll close it again as soon as we do!”

“Listen,” Sam added desperately as he realized what was going on, “all we need is a spell--maybe we can get it from you! As soon as we have it, we’ll go right back, but we can’t leave without it. A monster is decimating forests--”

As if Sam and Dean were mere animals struggling in a trap and squealing meaninglessly, the other Sam and Dean ignored them completely. 

Sam-in-a-dress dropped his arm at last. “It’s no use,” he said. “I can’t close it myself.”

“Maybe with Rowena’s help--” Dean-in-a-dress suggested.

“No!” Sam and Dean cried as one. As bad as Rowena was in their world, there was no telling how powerful she must be here, particularly in cahoots with some evil version of Sam and Dean.

For the first time, their words drew the other versions of themselves’ attention. Sam-in-a-dress tilted his head. “You know Rowena?”

“The Rowena of our world,” Sam said. “She’s bad news.”

“She is that,” Dean-in-a-dress agreed. He and the other Sam regarded one another. They seemed to be having some sort of silent conversation. 

“They have magic of their own,” Dean-in-a-dress said, gesturing to the tree behind him. With Sam and Dean pinned helplessly in their spell, he and the other Sam went to investigate, drawing the bullet out of the tree with some magic that seemed second nature to them. When he finally had the bullet in his hand, the other Dean scowled, turning back to Dean accusatorily. “This is very dangerous magic,” he hissed. He showed it to the other Sam, outraged. “The power to fling metal at very high speed?? This could kill someone--painfully!”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea,” Dean muttered.

Dean-in-a-dress gave Dean a familiar look--annoyed, and planning to do something about it. The other Sam and Dean turned and began walking away from the portal ... and in the web of light they cast, suspended above the ground, Sam and Dean were drawn along behind them. Sam and Dean tried to talk sense into them all the way, but they were ignoring them again, chatting about portals and magic and ... breakfast, which seemed to be a point of some contention.

The Bunker came into view. “The Bunker!” Dean said, startled. It looked exactly the same. Only the setting was different: thick forest. 

The other Sam and Dean once more, reluctantly, heeded their words. “You know the Bunker?” Sam-in-a-dress asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, we live there, too. In our world,” Dean said. What a sight for sore eyes: one friendly, familiar thing on this whole sucky planet.

“You’re Men of Letters?” Other Sam asked incredulously.

“Yes!” Sam said eagerly. “Yes, we’re legacies! From our grandfather, Henry.”

“And presumably your father, John, too?” Other Sam asked disapprovingly.

“Sure, if he’d learned anything about it before his dad died. Look, we’re _you_, all right?? Just from another world,” Dean tried again.

“A cruel and dangerous world, where people tear apart one another’s organs and limbs with lightning-fast metal,” Other Dean said, also disapproving.

“Hey, you’re the one who threw Sam against a tree. You all right?” Dean asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, why didn’t he cast a counter-spell?” Other Sam asked wonderingly.

“Because we don’t have magic,” Dean explained patiently. “I mean, not like you. And what there is of it, we don’t use much. We try to avoid it, because in our world, people who use it are mostly ... like Rowena. Bad news. But a reliable source says it’s the only way to stop this monster--”

“Don’t listen, brother,” Other Dean said, turning Other Sam away and opening the heavy door to the Bunker with a wave of his hand. “Soon we can cast Truth on them; then we’ll find out what’s what.”

There was no indignity quite like being tied up in your own dungeon--especially with some kind of magic Sam and Dean had no idea how to even begin to unravel. There were no ropes to wear through, no cuffs to wriggle out of, just this pervasive magic enveloping them ... and Sam-in-a-dress, standing there with another spellbook, Dean-in-a-dress getting out some spell ingredients and tossing them in a familiar-looking bowl.

The spell was unfamiliar, though--and brief, only maybe four lines long, ending with Dean blowing some kind of powder in their faces.

After Sam and Dean were done coughing out the strangely sweet-tasting stuff, Dean-in-a-dress, looking oddly respectful now, and far more attentive, said, “Where are you from?”

“We told you!” Dean cried irritably. “I don’t know what you’d call our world, but we call this ‘Magic World.’ A monster is destroying forests--like, all of them, if we don’t get back in time. We’re here to get the spell to stop it, and then we’ll go home, we swear.”

Other Dean looked at Other Sam, startled. “They were telling the truth??”

Other Sam still didn’t seem convinced. “What are your names?” Other Sam said, holding his hand out toward them. Dean felt some kind of weird pressure, but it wasn’t painful.

“I’m Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam. Look, it looks like there’s another version of us in this world. We’ve met other versions of other friends of ours in other worlds, so I guess this isn’t that much of a surprise, just--dude, why the dress??” Dean finally had to ask, beleaguered.

Magic Sam and Dean looked at each other in surprise. Other Dean scowled. “This isn’t a ‘dress’; it’s a robe! And it’s awesome, I can tell you. The power in this thing ....”

“But why is yours green,” Sam said, looking at Other Dean, then turning his eyes to Other Sam, “and why is yours purple?” Sure enough, Other Dean’s ornate robe, hemmed a glittering white with golden runes sewn into it, was a deep green, with accents of greens in other hues. Other Sam’s robe looked almost exactly the same, except in shades of purple.

“Well, because I’m all about the earth magic!” Other Dean exclaimed. “And Sam is-- you guys seriously don’t have any magic in your world at all??”

“Actually ... we’re hunters,” Sam admitted reluctantly. Dean was about to ask him why the hell he felt the need to volunteer this information, when he remembered they were still under the effect of the truth spell. “We hunt witches.”

“Magic isn’t really used by good guys in our world--except us and a few of our friends,” Dean explained. “Like I said, we try not to, but sometimes, it’s the only weapon you’ve got.”

Other Dean then remembered the bullet and held it out at them. “Tell us about this magic.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s a gun. It’s not magic; it’s just high-speed combustion firing a bullet super fast down a barrel that aims it. There are millions of guns in our world.”

“So your people maim and kill one another,” Other Sam said judgmentally.

“Yep. We don’t love doing it,” Dean assured them. “Well, a little,” he literally had to admit. “But that’s why we do what we do: so the bad guys stop maiming and killing the good guys.”

Magic Sam and Dean seemed flummoxed, contemplating their words at some length, eyeing each other, eyeing Sam and Dean, then each other again.

“What is this spell you seek?” Other Sam finally asked.

“It’s an illumination spell,” Dean blurted out, his words falling over each other to get out of his mouth. If they could just get this spell ... if they could just make these guys--themselves--see how important it was to give them the spell and let them go home ... all this would finally be over, and they could save the world. Again. “We need the spell because this monster is invisible. We have illumination spells in our world, but they’re not powerful enough to make this creature visible. We heard you have a spell that could do it, or at least, we figured you would. It has to be really, super bright.”

“We have the name of the spell,” Sam said quickly. “Some of the rumors we found seemed to track the spell to this world, but the details of how to cast it were lost. It’s in another language. I have it written down, if you’ll just let me get into my pocket.”

With barely a gesture, Other Dean retrieved Sam’s gun from his pocket. He seemed afraid of it, floating it across the room to set it gingerly on the floor some distance away. At that, Other Sam made a gesture that loosed Sam and Dean’s bonds a little. Sam reached into his pocket and read out the name of the spell.

Dean must have expected something ... bigger from their reaction. After all, Rowena looked awed in spite of herself when she found out they meant to actually come all the way here, retrieve, and cast this spell. Magic Sam and Dean looked ... what was that, pitying? Unimpressed? Apparently this spell was nothing to them.

“If we teach you this spell, you’ll go home, heal the rift you tore in our reality, and never come back?” Magic Sam asked heavily.

“You betcha,” Dean said, squirming already at this promise of imminent release. He couldn’t wait to get out of this place.

“What’re you gonna do once you illuminate the son of a bitch?” Other Dean asked.

“Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Dean said, squirming harder.

“We’ve heard of this monster,” Magic Sam said. “Millenia ago, they roamed our own world. Obviously, we eliminated them, but unlike in your horrible-sounding world, we don’t really lose things here--especially knowledge. I could find the secret to how it was done without much difficulty.”

“I mean, isn’t that what a Men of Letters bunker is for?” Magic Dean said, his tone ridiculing. “What the hell do you have a bunker for if it isn’t for preserving that knowledge??”

“Shit happens, okay??” Dean said impatiently. “Now let me out!”

After questioning them closely about their intentions with their guns while still under the effect of the truth spell, Magic Sam and Dean did at last release them. Magic Dean even took Dean to the bunker’s kitchen to help him make them some sandwiches (vegan--ugh) and bring them back to where the two Sams were poring over lore books.

Magic Dean seemed to have as little patience for that type of research as Dean. They sat happily eating, kicking back in chairs as they watched the Sams work. “So, in a world where everyone’s killing and maiming each other all the time ... how have you survived to adulthood?” Magic Dean asked him.

“That’s the question,” Dean said, taking an especially large bite. It wasn’t half bad. “Actually, we’ve died a bunch of times, but Chuck always brought us back. Or someone else did.”

“You must have a very small human population there.”

“No, it’s huge. Overpopulation is a massive problem. Most people aren’t hurting each other. Just a few bad guys.”

“And how does one determine who’s ‘bad’ and who’s ‘good’?”

“Guess it’s all in what side you’re on.”

Magic Dean rolled his eyes. “Your words aren’t comforting.”

“Yeah, well, guess not every Sam and Dean gets to live in Never-Neverland.” He looked around. “So like, it’s just rainbows and bunny-rabbits and Kumbaya all the time here?”

Magic Dean seemed most annoyed to have to admit it: “I understood almost none of that sentence.”

“Everybody’s happy and nothing bad ever happens in your world?”

“Well, nothing so bad as killing and maiming, and almost never anything as bad as a tear in our reality.”

“Sorry ’bout that. We’ll fix it right up soon as we’re out of here.”

Magic Dean was silent as he finished his sandwich and brushed crumbs off his hands. At last, he said, “You and your brother are graceless and coarse, but I have to admit ... brave as hell. I see that you never give up. It must be extremely difficult to exist in your world. I’m glad to see these good things about you, because when I first understood you really were another version of me, I was pretty upset.”

“I wasn’t thrilled about that dress, either.”

“I told you, it’s not a dress! Look--”

He flung open the robe to show him runes stitched into its lining, which apparently gave it some sort of great power, but all Dean could pay attention to was what he _wasn’t_ wearing underneath. He shielded his eyes. “Dude! Couldn’t you magic up yourself some underwear, at least??”

Magic Sam looked up at that. “Dean,” he said disapprovingly.

“Wearing any other kind of clothing with it reduces its power!” Magic Dean defended.

“Not that much,” Magic Sam said crisply.

“Enough!”

“It’s worth it.”

“I guess for you, with your ‘Sky Magic,’ it probably hardly makes any difference at all,” Magic Dean sulked, closing his robes and sitting down again. He rolled his eyes conspiratorially at Dean. “Just because Sky Magic is rare and powerful, he thinks he’s so awesome.”

“Freakin’ Air Benders,” Dean agreed, bonding as best he could with this other self who, truth be told, seemed pretty damn awesome himself. “Just ’cos they’re the last ones left in the world ....”

Magic Dean obviously had no more idea what Dean was talking about than Dean did with this ‘Sky Magic,’ but he, too, was eager to bond. “Right?? Anyway, what say we get outta here and go have some fun?”

All ready for porn, booze, or target-shooting, Dean was confused when he found himself at the top of a tall cliff. What was this, sight-seeing? It was quite a view, but if there was one thing more boring than research, it was sitting around doing nothing at all. 

Magic Dean said a few words, then ... dove off the cliff. 

Dean yelped and grabbed for him, but it was too late. His heart pounding too loud to hear Magic Dean’s words, after a few seconds he nonetheless was able to comprehend that Magic Dean had not, in fact, fallen to his death, but after swooping down toward the ground at the base of the cliff, had flown upward again and was now hovering in the air a few feet in front of Dean. As the pounding gradually eased, Dean was able to hear him: “Come on! Sam never lets me do this stuff--says it’s dangerous.”

“Uhh ... I don’t have the power of ... flight.”

Magic Dean made a face. “Really? It must really suck in your world.”

“I’m ... starting to see it that way, too.”

“Well ... here. Sam’ll kill me, but how often do you get to meet a magic-less version of yourself?”

Without asking permission, Magic Dean cast a spell on Dean--then proceeded to laugh hysterically. It took a minute to figure out why. “Butterfly wings??” Dean demanded, outraged. “What the hell??”

“Sorry--first thing that came to mind,” Magic Dean said merrily. “What do you want, crow wings? Eagle wings? They’re all good ... but honestly, butterfly wings are probably best for a beginner.”

“How come _you_ don’t need wings?”

“Because ... well, because there’s about five ways to fly, and this one is just ... more flexible. You’ll have fun, too, though. Go ahead, step off the cliff.”

“_Are you crazy_??”

“Don’t worry. Even if you don’t figure out how to work the wings in time, I’ll be able to catch you. Go on, do it.”

“Hell no. I’m outta here.” Summoning as much dignity as he could, Dean turned and stalked away, wings and all. He didn’t like to fly in an airplane; why on earth would he want to fly with his skin bare to the wind??

A sudden gust of wind came up behind Dean, caught his huge, colorful wings, and pushed him off the cliff. Of all the ways there were to die, this was in Dean’s bottom three. ... Yet as he uncovered his eyes when he didn’t hit the ground and found himself also now hovering thanks to Magic Dean indeed having saved him from plummeting to his death, he had to admit he’d never felt such a rush. Anyway, not learning to fly was no longer an option, as Magic Dean refused to set him back on the ground, insisting he’d have to fly his way there. “It’ll be good for ya,” Magic Dean said sagely, floating languidly in the air watching, obviously enjoying every second of this. “Learn a new skill, get you out of your comfort zone ....” Jeez, was Dean this much of a dick, too? It would explain some things Sam had said over the years, if so. 

Yet Magic Dean wasn’t wrong, Dean had to admit, as by the time the Sams found them a couple of hours later, the Deans were flying as high up as they could get, then diving straight for the ground, pulling out of the free-fall at the last second. Magic Dean had to save his ass a couple of times, and scolded him ... but then took him up even higher than before for the next dive.

Standing at attention for their scolding from the Sams (Dean slowly, impishly waved his butterfly wings at Sam with a very serious expression, hoping to crack Sam up, and he thought he almost succeeded), Dean leaned over to Magic Dean and murmured, “Give Sam some wings, too, something funny--give him fly wings, or no--dragonfly wings!”

Magic Dean did. Magic Sam saw instantly and got rid of them before Sam had any idea what had happened, but even for that second, it was hilarious. 

As Magic Sam resumed his lecture and the Deans tried to keep straight faces, Dean leaned over to Magic Dean again and said, “At least push him off the cliff. Something. Sam’s got to experience this while we’re still here.”

“You do it,” Magic Dean said quickly, then suddenly attacked Magic Sam with a spell that gave him a big, bouffant hairdo.

“Very funny, Dean,” Magic Sam said brittly, getting rid of it, only for it to be replaced by a giant mohawk. Magic Sam had about as much acting-like-an-adult in him as Sam did, and after simply undoing Magic Dean’s spells a couple more times, started retaliating. Meanwhile, Dean grabbed Sam--who now had some pretty blue butterfly wings himself (Dean’s were more like monarch butterfly wings), and pulled him off the cliff with him.

He realized his mistake about halfway down, with Magic Dean not here to save someone brand-new to having wings, and Dean still not a good enough flyer to carry the weight of two grown men. Fortunately, as ever, Sam was a quick study, and managed to figure it all out in time not to hit the ground. He was mad at Dean ... but too exhilarated to dwell on it. Flying up to the top of the cliff, they saw that Magic Sam and Dean’s magic battle was becoming intense enough that Sam and Dean would probably get smoked if they got too close, so instead they flew around a while, taking in the land beneath them.

“Is that ... Kansas?” Dean finally asked incredulously, as he began to recognize some of the landmarks they were accustomed to seeing around their own Bunker. “But why is it so forested? Kansas has been bare and flat forever.”

“I guess things evolved differently here. That ... other Sam mentioned something about drawing a lot of their power from the forest.”

“Guess they’d have the power to plant forests wherever they wanted one.”

“Yeah.”

“Speaking of, did he find the spell for getting rid of that monster? Because as fun as this is, if we don’t get home soon, there might not be a home to go home to.”

“Yeah. I’ve got it.”

With no need for words, they continued flying around, rising up into the clouds, then higher, until the sun hit their backs. They ranged far, so far they almost couldn’t see the flashes of the other brothers’ magic battle anymore. They had everything they needed now. They could go home at any time. Dean knew Sam felt exactly as he did. They would get back home and do their duty. Of course they would. But it was incredibly hard to leave this beautiful land where there was no violence, no ugliness, no cruelty. There truly was a little comfort in knowing that at least one version of himself got to live here.

When at last, at virtually the same moment, they felt the urge to reluctantly turn around and head back, Dean looked at Sam, and got a sudden overpowering feeling that this--Sam, free, flying with his beautiful wings through clouds above a perfect world--was really where Sam had always belonged. He looked serious, focused, but serene, like flying was already second nature to him. Any time they stepped through that portal, they seemed to be in for some new kind of pain. Dean hadn’t expected it to be this experience so good, so _right_, that everything back home would feel a little more wrong from now on.

Sam stumbled on landing--he’d gotten pretty good at flying, but this was his first time landing. Magic Dean arighted him with a wave of his hand. Sam stepped forward and shook Magic Dean’s hand. “Thank you,” he said feelingly, and just as Dean would have, Magic Dean knew it wasn’t keeping him upright he referred to; it was giving him wings.

“Don’t mention it,” Magic Dean said casually. The other Sam and Dean kicked around, as if ... as if they, too, were reluctant to let them leave.

Finally, Magic Sam said, “If you’re really able to repair that tear in our reality like it was never there as you promised ... know that you’re always welcome to return, any time you wish.”

Sam and Dean both smiled. “We just might take you up on that,” Dean said.

After another long, awkward moment putting off the inevitable goodbye, Sam and Dean finally turned toward the portal. After walking with them only a few steps, Magic Sam said, “Wait.” Sam and Dean looked at him expectantly. “I ... have a book I’d like to give you. I have a spare copy. As long as you promise to keep its secrets safe in your Bunker.”

Sam nodded solemnly. Magic Sam disappeared for a second, then reappeared, bearing the book, which he handed ceremoniously to Sam. Sam had scarcely a moment to glance at it before Magic Sam magicked them all back to the portal, but Dean could see from the stunned look on his face that it must be a treasure, indeed.

“Gahhh,” Dean groaned, holding his gut when they reappeared in the new place. “I hate when people do that.”

“Sorry,” Magic Dean said impishly, not looking very sorry at all. “Oh, and--” he took away their wings. “People might look twice if you went home with those.”

Dean couldn’t believe he’d really been about to step through the portal with them still attached. It had been so easy to get used to having them. Once some of the dizziness went away, Dean shook Magic Dean’s hand. “Thanks, for ... that was a day to remember.”

“It was for us, too,” Magic Sam said. 

“And ya know, you’re always welcome to visit us, too ... not that I can imagine why you’d want to,” Dean told them.

“If your world is ever on the brink of destruction and you’re able to open another portal ... take refuge here, and live out the rest of your days with us,” Magic Sam said. “It’d be an honor to have you. You must be heroes in your world.”

Sam and Dean couldn’t exactly deny it. Magic Sam and Dean smiled. 

“So long,” said Magic Sam.

“See ya,” said Dean, and, hesitating a long moment to take one last glimpse of their beautiful world, stepped through.

The monster was never hard to find. Wherever forests were disappearing at a seemingly impossible rate, there it must be. Sam and Dean stood in a field that was recently rich forest land. Sam held a piece of paper upon which was written the spell as Dean gathered ingredients, nodding at Sam when he was done. Sam started reading out the spell as Dean added ingredients to the bowl. There was always a flash when the final ingredient was added, but there was no way to be prepared for the immense burst of light that came out this time. Dean was sure it must literally have illuminated half the state. He was also sure it must have blinded him ... but when he dared open his eyes, trees and earth and Sam only the barest hints of light on light, only one thing remained dark: the monster, looking at them, shocked. Caught. 

“Now!” said Dean. Sam dropped the piece of paper and drew his bow, shooting the monster with the other spell they’d brewed up and put at the tip of the magical arrow Magic Sam had also given them the recipe for. Sam’s aim was true, and the dark monster--black against all this light--grabbed at the arrow where it entered it, yanking desperately as its body faded, lighter and lighter, and finally exploded in a massive burst of color--every color of the rainbow, plus some Sam and Dean had never seen before. It was like a fireworks show on the grandest scale imaginable. It was beautiful. 

They watched in silence as the brightness faded almost imperceptibly. Minutes passed, and Dean became aware he could see Sam and the outlines of trees just a little bit better, still better a few minutes later. To say the night had become bright as day was still, half an hour later, an understatement. They watched unmoving, memories of a life lived by some other version of themselves resonating with the sight. They only took their eyes off it when cars pulled up behind them. People who lived in the area ran toward the epicenter. “What happened??” a guy asked. “I saw this flash, and it just stayed bright, like the sun set right here on earth!”

Sam was able to move himself to speak, if only just: “Yeah, we--we saw it, too.”

Sam and Dean finally took their leave as everyone else arrived, getting in the Impala and speeding away, unnoticed in the hubbub. Neither of them said anything, driving away from the lingering glow until at last the night looked almost normal, their handiwork a beacon as of a lighthouse in the darkness behind them. 

They passed through a town, stopped for gas. Dean got himself a fruit pie; Sam got some iced tea. The guarded clerk took their money, seeming suspicious of any traveler who came through in the middle of the night--or maybe just the rough-around-the-edges ones who drove a black roaring beauty like Baby. Still, when they were a little short and digging around in their pockets for the rest, the clerk told them not to worry about it, ringing them up and brushing off their thanks gruffly. That wouldn’t have happened in Magic World. There were no convenience stores, no oil-stained parking lots, no junk food, no need for suspicion of iffy-looking travelers, no fear ... and no courage in the face of it. No unexpected kindness from strangers. No local people racing to the scene of a potential disaster full of trepidation and curiosity and a willingness to help. 

“Sam?” Dean said at last.

“Yeah, Dean?”

“I know this world ain’t perfect, but ... I’m still glad it’s ours.” 

Sam relaxed into his seat, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”


End file.
